Chapter 13: Not That Girl Anymore

A hot shower and my favorite jeans did me a world of good, though knowing I had to go to school put a damper on my day. But I'd think about that after. Because I decided while the water cascaded over me and the soap cleansed the outside that it was time to face the dirt on the inside, no matter how much it hurt.

That meant confronting my mother and my great grandmother about the crapfest that had been the way they chose to raise me. At sixteen, sure maybe I wasn't a great judge of parenting skills, but honestly, they could have done better. Okay, so Mom went through a lot, I got that. The whole end of Creation thing, losing people left, right and upside down. Yes, that made sense, and I understood how she could wind that up into a need to shield the whole coven.

Especially once all was said and done and she had zero conflict to focus on, no threats to throw her massive power at. So I was willing to be less judgmental and move on from it. The mean part of me whispered I could have done better raising me and would with my own kids. But I had to be willing to accept I had no idea, not really, what Mom lived through. I was grown up enough to see past my own childishness and feel empathy and compassion for what had to have been a horrendous time in her life.

And if Ameline was right, which I had no doubt she was, Mom had just let things wind out for so long out of fear-in GreatGram's case I'd morph into some kind of devilspawn-while the entire world came after me and tried to kill me. I had to find it in me to see past that. Instead of go into the talk swinging, ready to kick some serious Hayle witch ass.

I wasn't that girl anymore.

I smelled coffee wafting from the stairs, Mom's favorite and something I'd been sneaking tastes of since I was about eight. Just to feel closer to her, I think, turning into a bit of a craving by the age of twelve and now a habit. She'd never commented on me drinking it, though, or gave me a hard time. As if drinking coffee at my age was a perfectly normal thing.

I guess for us it was.

Surprise, surprise, Mom, GreatGram and Nanna sat at the kitchen table, Sassafras still in silver Persian form perched on the wooden surface with a bowl of cream before him, cups of java all around. They greeted me with smiles and murmured good mornings, GreatGram meeting my eyes with her steady gaze. I took that as a win and crossed to the coffee pot, a dollop of cream and a healthy spoon full of sugar just what I needed to choke down the coming conversation.

I turned with determined fierceness to demand answers only to have Mom speak first.

But not to me. To GreatGram. "I think it's time you told us about Mahalia."

It wasn't often I saw weakness in my coven leader. No, not weakness, that's the wrong word. There was nothing weak about Ethpeal Hayle. But occasionally, just every once in a while, tiny cracks in the armor of her diligent power showed up. The barest hints of emotions she clearly didn't want anyone else to see. I understood the need to be a hard ass, to have others respect and follow you without question. Still, there were times I wished she'd show more of her insides and less of her outsides.

Careful what I wished for, because I was certain as I gaped over my forgotten cup of coffee that GreatGram was going to cry.

Nanna leaned toward her, hand on her mother's wrist, Sassafras leaving his bowl of cream to nuzzle GreatGram's cheek with his wet nose. She drew him to her chest, holding him in her lap and stroking his silver fur in long, slow sweeps of her finely wrinkled hands while she swallowed visibly past the sorrow she'd just shown us. For the first time in my life, I accepted GreatGram was a person. Not a coven leader, a powerful witch and strong willed commander, but a real life, honest to goodness woman with a heart that could be broken just like mine.

And in that instant, everything changed. I'd thought last night shifted my perceptions, Sass's touch and guilt, my awakening helping me see past the bitter and angry girl I'd become. I thought Mom had endured all the weight of Creation's demands and was the one who bore the brunt of agony from that pressure. I had no idea until I saw the truth of who Ethpeal was that she carried as much-no, way more, be honest with yourself, Ethie-hurt and disillusionment and grief as the rest of us.

I was sure as she inhaled, her façade of perfection tightening once again, she was going to reject this conversation outright. But as Sass's purr increased in volume to the point his amber magic glowed around her in a comforting embrace we could all see and feel, she relented, sagging a little, face falling with the show of her might.

Ethpeal Hayle, at last.

"My mother." She coughed softly past what had to be a lump in her throat as she swallowed again. Nodded like it hurt her. Went on. "My mother was leader of this coven. And she was a monster."

There was that word, that characterization I feared. But I held my breath and my tongue as GreatGram spoke again.

"It's because of her this coven is so powerful." She seemed to despise that truth as much as embrace it. How long had she lived with the guilt that radiated from her now? Since she was my age, probably. A very long time. Compassion squeezed my chest in a tight hug for her. "Her darkness led to our strength. And, though she was despicable and vain and a truly wicked witch, we wouldn't be who we are if she hadn't been who she was."

"That's not telling us much, Gram." Mom's voice was kind and soft, but insistent.

It was Sass who spoke next. "Mahalia's crimes are numerous and have been struck from this family's history." He nudged Ethpeal's cheek again and she hugged him as if on reflex. "We really don't have to go into it right now. But suffice it to say, even her black soul is gone from the family, her bones burned when the North American Council ordered her death."

Whoa. Mom gasped, Nanna, too. So neither of them knew? How could they not know?

Because the old coven leader and the demon cat had kept this secret from them. Stupid. I wanted to know everything. It was my history, damn it. And, according to GreatGram, my possible (or inevitable?) future.

Mom seemed to share my feelings, the voices of the personas within her muttering so loudly I could hear them again, though I was sure they had no idea. "Kind of important information to keep to yourselves, don't you think?"

"We decided long ago." Sassafras felt defensive now, protective of GreatGram who sighed and released him, setting him on the table top while he stared at her with his ears sideways, whiskers hanging low.

"I did," she said, sounding far younger than normal, voice light, empty of regret. "To protect this family. I did a lot of things." There was the regret at last, but not bitterness. What had she given up? "But none of that matters now. Except that I have allowed my ancient hurts to harm this family when the safety and protection of our coven has ever been my focus."

She finally met my eyes. But Mom interrupted before I could say anything.

"You did what you had to do, we all did." Her voice came out rough, her words sharp edged and tainted with guilt so powerful I half spun toward her, untouched coffee spilling over the edge of my mug. "If anyone is to blame for our present issues, it's me and all the crap I'm carrying around thanks to Creator."

I couldn't argue because my heart agreed with her. Maybe I should have tried to comfort Mom, but I honestly couldn't muster the words.

"We have all," Nanna said, ever the diplomat as she tapped into her professional voice to speak to us, commanding us to listen with the subtle and practiced tone she used when she was working, "made mistakes. All of us." We nodded in a glum group while Nanna smiled. "Syd, you feared when you saw how hurt Ethie was at your parting with Quaid you had ruined your relationship forever." She what? Well, okay, if I was going to admit everything, I did hate her for a while. A long while. Until my relationship with Dad went south, too. My fault. "You did what you thought was best, letting Mother guide Ethie's training as heir while you stayed out of it." Nanna's love radiated from her. "And both of you have witnessed and endured endless loss." As had Nanna, but she was still in politician mode. "You continue to carry such a massive burden and none of us know if Creator will call on you again today or in a decade or a hundred years from now."

"Not an excuse not to raise my kids." Mom stared into her coffee mug, face dark and grim. "It just became... the way things are." I wanted to hug her then, though I still agreed with her. She'd been here for me, though, I did realize. I'd just shut her out, hadn't I? All the times Mom tried, all the attempts she made to bond with me passed through my mind. Shopping sprees and spa visits and a single road trip to Demonicon and Aunt Meems a blur of nastiness I refused to release and just enjoy her company. And not one of those instances had involved Gabriel.

She tried so hard and I screwed up. Not her fault. She needed to know that. I didn't get to tell her. Because GreatGram spoke next.

"Little did you know," she said, bitterness and regret heavy in her voice as she rose abruptly, "the one person you trusted betrayed us all in her old age and foolishness." She swept from the room, doing nothing to hide her pain and I almost went after her. But Sass was speaking and what he had to say held me frozen, watching a train barrel toward each of us like it was a contest who could suffer the most from the wreck.

"I was so afraid she would become Mahalia," he said, echoing his terror and old agony in his voice and power, "I poured everything I had into her when she was still in the womb. I made Ethpeal who she is. Her need for justice, her drive to do the right thing, her overwhelming protectiveness for the family. That was my fault. If I had only let her evolve on her own, I know she would have been an amazing woman and witch regardless. But I was afraid and I couldn't leave well enough alone. And because of me, she suffers, has suffered her entire life, the weight of every single perceived failure."

He fell silent and we all hung on his final words, my heart aching as I knew Nanna and Mom's had to be. My grandmother swiped at tears on her cheek, Mom clearing her throat softly over and over as if fighting her own weeping. They knew GreatGram so much better than I did, had so much more history. Even I was suffering, and I honestly barely knew her even as I had spent my whole life with her. What were they enduring?

Ah, the Hayle guilt complex. How utterly ridiculous.

I was the first one to shake free of the hold of his grief, though, and likely out of my lesser connection to the past. Still, I felt it through my magic and my ties to my family, enough it twinged uncomfortably and made me anxious. To counter the unhappy descent pulling me toward despair, I set my mug down with a firmness that forced me to use magic to keep it from shattering and sending a cascade of hot coffee all over the place.

I knew what I had to do. Who I had to be. And as I strode from the kitchen without a word, heading for the back hall and her bedroom door, I also knew it was time GreatGram and I reconciled so we could finally put this behind us.

Now, to make her listen.

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